


Parties

by nakadoo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, not really shipping, this is mostly about frienship okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakadoo/pseuds/nakadoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't really know what triggers it, but it frustrates you all the same.  It could be the stress, it could be the weather or it could be the fact that your grandpa kicked the bucket. You’re really not sure, but you don’t really feel like anything anymore, besides the frustration and the confusion and why are you not feeling as sad as you should be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I... was feeling really very down when I wrote the first half but I continued the second half after I started to feel better so the flow of emotions is kind of wonky.

You don't really know what triggers it, but it frustrates you all the same. It could be the stress, it could be the weather or it could be the fact that your grandpa kicked the bucket. You’re really not sure, but you don’t really feel like anything anymore, besides the frustration and the confusion and why are you not feeling as sad as you should be?

You’ve got a friend, her name is Rose and she says that maybe it is the weather, maybe it is your granddad, and maybe it is your stress. Maybe it’s all three. She asks if you’re okay and you tell her you’re fine but you’re not really sure, it’s by default now that you answer that and you don’t really give it a second thought once it’s passed your lips.

No one really seems to notice the change that you know is happening to you. It’s subtle, sort of, but not really. You know something is off with you, and it’s annoying that you’re not really sure about what it is. Rose reminds you that you’re welcome to talk to her about it, and you tell her she’s not even graduated yet and she should fucking stop with the psychoanalysis but you go talk to her anyway because in a way it does kind of help.

Rose tells you that it might by dysthymia, except you haven’t been experiencing this empty little feeling for long enough to confirm the disorder. For now, she’s putting you under her observation, very nonchalant observation, not enough to draw the attention of others. You told her you didn’t want people to know just yet or at all for that matter. You already know what the others might say, and it ticks you off to no end (he’s just looking for attention, don’t pay him any heed, he’s just desperate).

You kind of break off from the others, for some reason you found their presence to be more annoying than pleasurable (then again, they never really liked you) and solitude was beginning to sound more and more appealing than you had originally thought.

You skip class for a day.

There’s nothing on T.V. and nothing interesting is going on online. It’s as dull as ever and you just shut the blinds and crawl under your sheets to get yourself warmed up. It’s not even snowing that strong, just gentle little flakes of snow falling from the sky. That used to make you happy. You used to take pictures of the first snowfall of every year. You haven’t actually touched your camera in a while.

You skip class for a week.

You don’t really want to go there anymore, you don’t really see the point. Why bother? It’s just more stress and confusion and having to deal with people. The solitude of your small apartment is comforting enough, you suppose, and laying in bed is all you really care for doing.

There is a knock at your door. You wonder idly who it is. Classmates? Probably not, why would they bother with you? You don’t really know them that well.

It’s Rose, and she asks you why you haven’t been answering your phone. To be honest, you don't really care. It rang once every day until yesterday, when it wouldn't stop ringing. You dropped it in the toilet. 

She sighs at you and fixes you a cup of coffee and you belatedly realize you haven’t eaten a proper meal in days. “I want food,” you say simply, and she asks you if you want to go out. You tell her not really but she manages to coerce you to go out with her. You don’t really freshen up or change out of your pajamas. You just slip on a jacket and go out.

“How have you been?” she asks you and you’re just kind of shoveling pasta into your mouth. She looks so clean and neat as compared to you, but you don’t really give a rat’s ass about it. “Why haven’t you been going to class?”

“How’d you know?” you ask her and down a cup of coffee.

“Kanaya is in one of your classes, silly. She said you were gone for a week.” She’s poking at a salad, except not really since she’s poking at you. You like her, at least you know you like her, because she never tells you that you’re a piece of shit, doesn’t really question why you do what you do. She’s just curious, always so curious, but never too insensitive. “So, dear, do tell.” But she is persistent, which can be good at times but mostly annoying.

“Didn’t feel like it,” you tell her, calming down with eating your food. “Didn’t see why I had to.”

“Don’t you like your course?” she asks, gentle prying as always. “I thought you chose that?”

“I did,” you affirm, sniffing just a little bit. “But… I dunno, it’s kind of stupid now that I think about it.”

“Why do you think that?” she finally takes a bite of her salad and chews thoughtfully, eyes never leaving yours.

You shrug. “Like, s’not like I’m actually going to accomplish anything after I graduate. Or if I graduate at all.” You look at your plate despondently. You kind of miss the enthusiasm you held for political science, but it just isn’t the same anymore. Maybe you made the wrong choice. Maybe political science isn’t what you were meant to do. Maybe you should have done what your father had told you and take up medicine instead. Maybe you’ve fucked up from the start. “I fucked up.”

She stops with her fork in the air with a tomato stabbed with its prongs. She puts her fork back down slowly and rubs her nose. “What did you fuck up?”

“Everything,” you tell her and that is probably it. It’s your fault. If your life is fucking up, who else should be at fault but you, right? “From the moment I applied to this academy and up until now.”

“What makes you say that?” she asks and picks her fork back up. You really like how she’s not making a big deal out of it, how she isn’t being those types of people who say “its going to be alright.” They don’t know shit, they don’t know what mistakes you’ve made.

“M’lifes in shambles, Rose, and I’m the one in control of my life, except I have no control at all,” you sigh. You rub at your face, it feels gross and sticky and oily and you should probably wash your face soon, or maybe take a bath. When was your last bath? Suddenly you feel very tired, and your appetite is gone. “I don’t want to do anything anymore.”

“You mean quit school and live like a hobo?” she says, and there is a teasing tone behind her words but you don’t actually find it amusing or funny. “I can’t say I can imagine that.”

You sigh. “I kinda want to just sleep forever and never wake up.”

She blinks at you, like you said the answer to her problems was to eat a beehive. She’s quite done with her salad now, and she gestures for the bill. “That’s a little bit sad,” she says. No one talks until the bill comes and you pay for your meals. 

Before you part she tells you not to do anything drastic. You come home with a bottle of sleeping pills.

It helps you get to sleep faster, so you don’t have to go through the dull haze of trying to sleep. You don't remember any of your dreams, but you decide the moment you wake up that maybe you should go to class.

You do, and it’s just dull. You take notes like you always do, neat and organized and not a bullet point out of place. You understand what’s going on, sort of, but you wonder how it’s going to be useful to you and all you’re drawing is a blank. A classmate asks if she can borrow your notes, and you let her; even go with her when she makes a photocopy of it for herself. She thanks you and asks you to lunch and you just shrug and say “sure, whatever.”

She talks all through out lunch about the syllabus, the professors, the party tonight and hey are you going and when you don’t reply right away she waves a hand in front of your face. “Are you going?” she asks again. “I hear it’s at the fancier parts of town,” she takes a sip of her juice and continues. “A girl named Feferi? I think I’ve seen you hanging around with her before?”

You nod, slowly and look at your food. “Yeah, she’s a friend,” you say, except you haven’t actually spoken to her in months. She hasn’t bothered speaking to you either, so maybe you’re not really friends anymore.

“Soooo,” she says, pushing the spaghetti noodles around in her plate with a fork, “are you going?”

“I guess?” You tell her. Maybe a change of scenery might do you good. Who knows. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Well, do you mind if you and I go together?” she asks, looking at you with big bright eyes and you try and think why she would make that face. “I mean, not like a date or anything, I just don’t know how to get to that area.”

You nod. “Sure.”

“Great! I’ll see you at seven, in front of the library, okay?” She grabs her tray and waves good bye before leaving you alone to finish your food.

The party is loud and colorful and you can feel the thud-thud-thud of the bass line shaking through your body. Your classmate thanked you for taking her there, would have gotten lost without you, but is now lost in the sea of people who aren’t even Fef’s friends.

You go to the kitchen, and it’s a little quieter save for the chattering of people trying to socialize. So far, you have seen nary hair nor trace of anyone you know and you start to wonder if coming here was some sort of mistake. Then again, a lot of what you’ve done so far has been a mistake, and coming here pales in comparison. You sigh.

You’d leave but your classmate asked if you could leave together. She doesn’t want to go home alone at night because it’s dangerous.

You go up and up to the third floor, where thankfully people have decided not to go to. The life of the party’s on the first floor, so you guess there isn’t really a point in coming up. Though, there are a few people. They’re talking quietly amongst themselves, laying on the ground and laughing about who knows what. You remember that there’s a balcony somewhere there and just as you approach it a voice catches your attention.

“Eridan!”

You turn around slowly and realize that Feferi was amongst the people laying on the ground, except she was using Sollux’ lap as a pillow. She sits up and you actually thought she’d smile at you like she usually does but she… doesn’t. And that sort of elicits a small little pain in the bottom of your heart, but that pain goes as soon as it came. “What are you doing here?” she asks, and now even Sollux is scrutinizing you.

“Came with a friend,” you explain and you don’t know what sort of face you’re making. You touch your cheek to make sure, and ok, you’re not smiling at least. “Was lookin’ for the balcony,” you jerk your thumb back at you where the balcony is.

“A friend huh?” Sollux says with a scoff. “Who, your right hand?” some people overheard let out a few giggles and you don't really care.

“Uh,” you say and scratch the back of your neck. “No, I came with Patty,” you reply. “Lost sight of her though.”

“Patty Jefferson?” Feferi asks and you nod. “I didn’t know you knew her! She’s the swim team captain!”

“Oh,” and that’s all you can say.

It gets a little bit awkward, so you wave at them goodbye and make your way to the balcony. It’s quiet and cold. You look down at the other houses across the street, look at the snow that’s caked up on the roofs. It was Patty’s car that brought you here, and you can see it parked a little far off. You should lend her your jacket on the way back to the car. She was wearing such a thin cardigan. She’ll probably be cold.

You think she lives near your apartment, so you can ditch her and her car (you’re probably driving her back anyway, it’s only the gentlemanly thing to do) and walk home.

You pull out a cigarette pack from your pocket, tap a single stick out and put it in between your lips. You light it up and take a drag, letting the warmth fill your lungs and the nicotine run through your veins. You puff out and make a little ring of smoke like how your grandpa used to do when you were little. 

You kind of really miss him.

Cronus couldn’t come to the funeral. He was out of the country. You kind of miss him too.

You think of all the things you miss, or rather you can’t stop thinking of them. It’s like you tried to open a spigot to wash your hands but you broke it instead and everything is just rushing back to you.

You miss the cookies that grandma used to make every Christmas. You miss your grandpa and all his shitty jokes that you love anyway. You miss how your dad used to take you out to the shooting range to teach you how to fire a riffle. You miss Cronus, and all those lame love songs he asked you to rate when you were in high school. You miss your mom, and how her perfume always smelled so sweet and how her hugs always made you feel safe. 

You missed your friends (are they really your friends?)

You miss Feferi.

And just like that, you can’t stop the tears from flowing; can’t stop the sudden melancholy that you feel slowly filling the void that you were getting accustomed to. It felt horrible. It was a terrible idea to come to the party. You cry quietly, wiping away the tears and just wishing they’d stop.

It’s so funny, that it was a little smoke ring that made you remember just how miserable you are.

The cigarette dangles from your fingers and you fold your arms against the railing. You duck your face into your folded arms and try to make yourself calm down, but you still can’t make the tears stop.

You hear the doors open and you stiffen and you try not to sniffle. The tears still won’t stop.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” and it’s Dave, Rose’s brother. He knows about you, about how you’re Rose’s little guinea pig for psychoanalytical assessment or some shit.

“Yeah, well,” your voice cracks and you move your arms to take a drag, but you still hid your face. “I do.”

You feel his arm on your shoulders. “Shit dude, are you crying?”

You wonder if the gods liked messing with you, because at the moment you look up to look at Dave to find some sort of comfort, Feferi and Sollux open the balcony door to witness the scene.

You drop your cigarette and crush it under your foot, kicking it off the balcony. You put a hand over your eyes and take in a breath.

“Oh my god, Eridan, are you okay?” And she’s at your side, she practically shoved Dave away, and she’s cooing at you like she never even hated you.

“Do you hate me?” you ask, and before she can reply you cut her off. “Of course you do, I’m a piece of shit.” You rub at your eyes. She hates you, and she deserves to after the way you’ve treated her. “I’m sorry I came, I shoulda thought about it more.”

“Eridan…”

You actually sob. All you feel is sad and stupid and everything is your fault. “You all hate me. I don’t blame any of you. I hate me too.” And you can’t bring yourself to say any more than that because you’re hiccoughing and sniffling like a child.

Dave pulls her off you and pulls you back inside where it’s warm. She protests, but Dave tells her to stay out of it. Tells her it’s none of her business and she needs to back the fuck off. You can’t really say anything, all you can do is wipe at your eyes and shudder with each breath you take. Your heart beats loud in your rib cage and you can’t breathe you can see properly. Is this dying? Is this what you deserve? You are so fucking scared.

Dave holds your hand, talks to you gently and takes you to a room. He sits you down on the bed and you shake and you wheeze and you feel so dizzy. He talks you through it, tells you to take a deep breath and he is holding your hand all the while as he does so. It takes a few minutes, but after a while your breathing is back to normal but you still feel like shit and everything just hurts.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and his voice is so quiet but you nod. He sighs in relief and flops back on the bed. “Eriglub,” he calls you, an endearment that he invented for you when you started to hang out with Rose and him more instead of your other friends, “that was a panic attack.”

“A what?” You ask.

“A panic attack. Are you alright?” He sits up and looks at you again. You nod.

“We should probably take you home,” he tells you and stands up, taking your hand and making you stand as well. “Rose is here too, so you should probably talk things through with her,” he pulls you to the door and you’re still a little shell shocked from what happened. “Or, you know,” Dave says as he pushes the door open, “seek professional help? As much as a hot shot Rose is, she’s still learning the ropes about this shit.”

“Professional help?” Feferi echoes and she looks at you with such worried eyes, you are too ashamed to look at her. “Eridan, what’s wrong? Professional help for what?”

“Look, it’s none of your business,” Dave interjects, pulling his phone out of his pocket to call Rose.

“It is TOO my business!” Feferi argues and it is one of those rare moments when she’s actually really upset. “I’m his best friend! Of course it’s my business! I’ve known him forever and you just met him last year! You have no right to say it’s none of my business!” and she tugs at your other hand, and she’s gentle but you don’t know what to do. 

You’re at a loss and you’re just really tired. You want to go home.

Dave looks at her, and it's a long hard glare and it makes you shrink back. “Some fucking best friend you turned out to be, if you didn’t even know he was showing signs of depression,” he says it quietly, but its so intense and there is so much heat behind it, it makes you squirm. “Guess what, bitch? When he needed his best friend most, you weren’t there; you were giving him the cold shoulder just because he made mistakes. I was there, through all the bullshit and all the tears and you fucking weren’t.”

The grip she has on your hand slacks, and Dave pulls you away, putting his phone against his ear as he calls for Rose.

On the way out wit Rose and Dave at your side, you see Patty wave you goodbye from the corner with a grin on her face and a guy’s arm around her waist. You wave bye back weakly, and hope she stays safe.

They take you to the nearest hospital, just a check up to see if you were okay and apparently you were. You’ve at least calmed down a little, just a little, but there is still this unknown fear that’s keeping you on edge, like at any given moment you could die.

They take you home and help you into bed. You ask for a sleeping pill and Rose gives you a glass and a pill and you swallow it gratefully, letting the sleep take over your body and give you rest.

You wake up the next day feeling a little fresher, and it’s ten in the morning.

Dave is curled up on the extra futon you have, while Rose snoozes on the couch. You still feel tired, but you want to give them a hug, you want to tell them thank you for putting up with all of your shit.

You do just that, waking them up from their slumber and you all eat out for brunch.


	2. Brother Dear

Your name is Eridan Ampora and you don’t know what you’re feeling.

Rose says that its part of depressions and, as much information that the doctors have told you and what additional info Rose has given you, it still confusing and kind of bleak because apparently doctors don't always have the answers you wish they had. They try, and you suppose you appreciate them for it. You guess.

Fortunately, the only rumors about you that spread out after the party was that you got drunk and Rose and Dave helped you home. No one was paying much attention to figure out what actually went on, and that’s one less thing to worry about you guess. Still, more rumors can bloom over time and you really hope that nothing bad is said about you, about Rose, about Dave and even about Patty the swim team captain.

You feel like that anyone who gets involved with your shit will join you in your misery, since misery loves company and all that shit. You want to push them away, so they don’t end up hating you too for getting into this shit but you want them to stay because you’re scared and alone and just so confused about everything.

You cut class a lot more often, though Rose has informed most of your professors of the situation. They give you extra work, a lot of it, to do at your own pace apparently but you have this sinking feeling that they don’t actually care about you or your grades anymore if your incapable of even attending their class.

You do attempt though and its mostly half assed but Rose encourages you to do it so you do. Sometimes, when you feel like it or when you need something to distract yourself from your thoughts.

You thought, for a fleeting moment, that maybe Feferi would drop by more often or maybe even talk to you but she doesn’t. She probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with you, more so than she did at first. Wishful and painful thinking and you’re silly for wishing it to happen.

Dave sleeps over at your place a lot more often though, he’s got piles of clothes laying around your apartment that he can crash whenever he likes unprepared since a lot of his stuff is already there. 

He does a lot of rapping, about mundane things and usually he’s really good when he’s upset. He likes apple juice and he likes the color red. He’s got two best friends John and Karkat and you tell him you didn’t think he’d get along well with those two. He didn’t think so either. He talks to you about his brother, who is similar to him in more ways than he can count.

It makes you miss Cronus in an almost painful manner.

It’s three in the morning, and you try to call Cronus after years of not seeing him.

“Who the fuck is this?” He grumbles unhappily into the receiver. It’s so nice to hear his voice again, so nostalgic and pleasing and you can almost smell the nicotine over the phone. “Betta not be some lame ass crack call.”

“Hey Cro,” you greet, your voice quiet and small because you don’t want to wake Dave up.

“Danny boy?” He says groggily, and you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. No one has called you that in forever. Then again, he’s the only one who calls you that, plus your other (ex?) friend Gamzee. “What in the fuck are you doing, calling at this time a the day?”

You shrug and look out the window. “I missed you,” you shake your head. “I miss you,” you correct yourself.

He’s quiet on the other end, but you can hear him shuffling around for a cigarette. “That’s awful nice of you to say,” he replies, and he’s starting to sound more awake. “It must have been some intense missing if you couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning to call,” he chuckles and you really wish you could see him.

“So how’s that music career gettin’ along?” you ask, jus to keep the conversation going. “Good? Bad?”

“We’re getting there,” he says and he sounds a little proud. “Me and Kurloz and his Kitty-cat gal, well, we’re starting to get a little fanbase you know?” You hear him puff out some smoke. “Well, I suppose we’ve got Meulin to thank for that, she’s been vlogging about us apparently.”

“Oh yeah?” You say, sitting up and touching the keypad of your laptop. “Do I just search your band name to see it or somethin?”

You hear him move more and the flick of a switch. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“What was it again,” you muse out loud. “Smashing Pumpkins?”

He laughs. “No you dunce, that’s my favorite band!”

“Well then what is it,” you pester because you honestly can’t remember it.

“I’m hurt, your own brother dear and you can’t remember his band name.” You’ve forgotten that he’s a drama queen. “How could you, Danny boy.”

“Oi, I remembered your favorite band didn’t I? That’s gotta count for somethin.”

“Shore Marbles,” he tells you and you type it down.

“What kinda name is that?” you scoff as you hit the enter button. It loads, and soon enough you’ve got a couple of articles and blog entries about your brother’s band. You click a link and it leads you to the vlog page of that Meulin girl.

You hear him open a fridge door and a couple of jars clattering around. “Well I wanted to go with a nautical band name you know but Meulin wanted marbles since they look like cat eyes,” he explains, and swears because you hear something break. “Kurloz doesn’t really talk much so we just mooshed them up together. Sounds totally fucking indie though.”

You watch the screen, and you watch your brother grinning at his band mates (he’s flipping the bird to Kurloz though). It mostly band practice and shit, but you look on at the more random videos, where they go out and do random shit. Cronus is still talking to you, just mindless conversation and complaints about the weather.

You cut him off. “I really miss you.”

He goes silent again, for a few long seconds like he doesn’t know how to respond. “You alright Ponyboy?” Another nickname he used to call you. “I miss you too and all, I really do, but we’ve never really been vocal about it.”

You grunt. “Maybe it’s time to be vocal about it.”

He goes silent again for a minute now, but you can hear him shuffling around. “I love you Ponyboy, always have, always will.”

And you are filled with such warmth that you’ve forgotten that it existed and you almost let out a sob but you manage to keep it in. “I love you too Sodypop.”

“Aws!” You can hear the grin on his face. “You finally used it!”

You nod and forget he can’t see you. “I still think its stupid.”

“But you said it! You said it!” he laughs and you can’t help but smile.

After he calms down, you settle against the pillows and sigh, feeling a little bit happy. “Hey, chief?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’know you could always visit me here whenever you like,” he tells you. “Just a two hour flight, you know?”

“I might,” you reply. 

“Just call me when you do. I miss you too.” He sighs almost fondly. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“You too.”

“I love you, Danny boy.”

“I love you too you muggle,” he curses you for that and laughs, but you hang up and go to sleep rather peacefully for once.

When you wake up, its half past noon and there’s a note on your laptop screen.

yo rose said that shes gonna be cooking tonight  
all hannibal lecter like youre invited of course  
dress up nice eribubbles except no dont its just  
you me and rose tonight movie night at her place  
i think the movie is the twilight saga totally choice  
just call or whatever if you need a ride  
-dave

The funny thing about Dave is that he uses sticky notes. And not just one sticky note, but a lot of them since his handwriting takes up so much space.

Those two mean a lot to you. They really do. You sometimes wonder what it would be like if they were to abandon you, and its really depressing to think about so you cut that at the bud before it grows.

You touch the touchpad of your laptop and refresh the page to see a new video. It’s titled “Danny boy” and curiously you click it.

The video loads and then you’re greeted by your brother’s face grinning at you. The camera is at a slightly odd angle, and you’re assuming its because he’s holding it himself. “Hey there Danny!”

“Give it back, Ampurra!” You hear Meulin whine at him. “You have your own camera!”

Your brother looks at her off screen. “Yeah but your camera is nicer!”

There is a struggle and soon enough you’re looking at Meulin instead. “Who’s Danny?” she says at the camera. “Your secret lover? Should I write this down!?” She says almost excitedly.

The camera is wrestled out of her grip again and the camera shifts from the sky to the pavement to buildings to people on the street and you laugh. “No! He’s my brother!” you hear Cronus yell at her. “I told you about him before!”

“Ohh! You mean mini Ampurra!” The camera is still facing the pavement but its being lifted up and back into a more proper angle. Meulin and Cronus can now be seen, both looking a little disheveled. You’re assuming Kurloz took it.

“Oh fine!” Meulin says, throwing her hands up in the air. “You can use it, but only just this once. Kurloz has to hold it though,” she does some sign language and you don't know what it means but it’s directed at Cronus.

Cronus groans. “Fine, fine.” He waves at the screen. “Just wanted to say hi to you and well say hi to my band mates because they’re both losers.”

Meulin does more sign languages and the camera shakes lightly.

“Don’t laugh, jackass!” Cronus says to Kurloz. “You’re messing up the video!”

Meulin does more sign language. The camera shakes more.

Cronus wails and approaches the camera. “Do you see what I have to put up with? These two are fucking N-U-T-S, NUTS!”

Meulin giggles and bounces up to your brother’s side. “But he loves us lots!” The camera bobs up and down. “See! Kurloz agrees!” 

“Auugh.”

And the video ends.

Under the video you see the description “Ampurra stealing the camera to say hi to little Ampurra.”

You miss your brother dearly.


	3. Apple Pie

It’s a strange thing really. Life you mean. 

You were under medication now, an antidepressant and anxiety pills. Rose encourages you to take them when you feel like tossing them out and Dave gives you a bottle of apple juice every week because he said “its like liquid gold, you wont even realize you’re swallowing medicine it’ll be like the there’s a party in your mouth and everyone’s invited” to which you promptly reply with a “stop watching so much futurama.”

Though you have to admit, pretending that it is liquid gold helps a little bit.

His name is Sollux Captor and you’ve hated him from the very start. You’re aware of the fact that he had (still has) problems of his own but you didn’t really give two shits about his well being when you were in high school. He was an ass and people liked him despite it. He stole Feferi away from you and she was your only friend. At the time, you thought that he had bad-mouthed you, told Feferi lies so that she’d cut off the friendship. But as you grew older and more alone, you’ve had more time to think that yes, you’re kind of a really big piece of shit. 

You can understand now why she left you; Sollux just gave her the courage to finally do it.

Maybe you’re happy for her, that she’s found someone that can make her happy. Maybe you’re a little happy for him too, since he’s found someone that can tolerate him on his mood swings, and through his dilemmas. You wish she could have been there for you, but maybe you’re just not lucky enough to be happy.

You’re not going to lie but there have been several instances where you’ve wanted to take your life. Not that you’d actually do it, but sometimes thinking about you calmed you down. It was a morbid pastime, but at least it didn’t make you feel so bad by the end.

Sometimes, you’d drown. Other times you’re burned at the steak. Maybe good old-fashioned bullet to the head. Quick and easy and not so messy if you did it just right. You actually once had a dream that you’d been sawed in half. Talk about a magic trick gone wrong.

The only person you’ve ever told these morbid fantasies to is Rose. She tells you to tell your psychologist and she tells you a lot of things and asks you a lot of questions that you don’t really want to answer.

You run into Sollux Captor one day as you were purchasing ingredients to make a pie. It’s a hobby, something you picked up from your (ex?) friend Gamzee while you were high schoolers (you wonder where he went, he disappeared after the third year).

Sollux had greeted you, a simple “sup” and a nod of his head. You nodded back in reply, not really looking at him as you paid for your shit and left as soon as you could.

Except you couldn’t because it was raining and you didn’t have an umbrella. You didn’t have a car, since Dave dropped you off and you were supposed to get back to your apartment via bus but the rain was not letting up and it looks like you were going to be stuck for a while unless a miracle happened.

“Waiting for someone?” Sollux asks, suddenly beside you and you almost jumped in shock.

“No,” you reply. 

He looks up at the dark sky. “Watching the rain?”

“No,” you reply again.

He pulls open his umbrella and lifted it over your heads. “Do you need a ride home?”

You look down at your feet and reluctantly say “yes.”

The ride is quiet but the sound of the rain makes up for the silence. You look out the window and watch buildings pass by and wonder if you’ve got anything to do today. You should probably call Cronus and tell him about what happened to you and that you’re, well, clinically depressed. You hope he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, because he’s got his own life and you wouldn’t want to take him away from his dream. You miss him.

“This building right?” Sollux asks you as he parks.

You nod, bundle your things up. “Yeah,” you say, getting ready to open the door and make a dash for it but he pulls the door close when you get it half an inch open. You look at him.

“You idiot,” he says. “I’ve got an umbrella just be fucking patient,” he berates you, steps out after he turns the engine off with the umbrella over his head. He goes over to your side and walks you to the building and you expect him to leave but he doesn’t. “Can I talk to you?”

You shift the grocery bags in your arms. “Uhm, sure?”

“In private,” he adds when you make no move to let him in. 

So you let him in, up the elevator and into your room. You unlock the door, step in and toe off your shoes. It’s a small apartment but it is yours and it's a safe haven from the wicked world outside. You set the groceries down and organize it as you prepare to make a pie. You bought apples, and you hope Dave passes by later because he really loves apples.

Sollux hangs around the doorway for a few seconds before coming in, closing the door behind him. “So…”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “So…?”

“How are you?” he starts, taking a seat at the dining area. 

“Meh,” you say and wash the apples. 

“Taking meds?” he says.

“Yeah…” you reply almost reluctantly.

He’s silent for a bit and he scratches his head. “It’s not bad you know.”

“What’s not bad?” you ask him as you start measuring out the ingredients. 

“Having to take medication,” he says, dropping his keys onto the table. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

You choose not to answer him, instead focusing on kneading the flour and butter until it looks like dough. You miss Gamzee too.

“And…” he says, hesitantly, but you can feel his eyes on you so you look at him. His eyes are different colored, brown and green (it looks so lovely) and you always thought they were contact lenses but they’re not. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you echo.

He nods. “About being a jerk to you,” he looks a little ashamed of himself now and you shake your head. “No, seriously,” he says before you can talk. “It wasn’t the right thing to do, I was just too stupid to realize that words can be harmful too.”

You’re lips twitch into a small smile. “Do you wanna stay for apple pie?”


	4. Dave Strider

You thought you were getting better, really you did. You were starting to feel a little like your old self and you kind of missed being around other people. You thought you were going to be normal again.

So you’re not quite sure why you did it.

It’s juvenile, painfully so, but you have spray painted your name all across the wall of one of the buildings at school. It’s 3am and there are barely any witnesses to your crime, and you don’t really give a shit about who sees you.

Your name stands out against all the other spray painted images and words, and a sense of pride grows at the pit of your heart. That is your name, you are here and you exist. People will see this and your name will be remembered.

You only worry that they wont remember for long.

You add in extra layers of paint, make your name as visible as it can possibly be.

“Eriglub?”

You turn around and you’re face to face with non other than Dave Strider, your kind of roommate but not really.

He sleeps over at your place a lot, mostly out of concern and also because he’s scared of leaving you alone. It’s sweet of him to think that way, and if you were anything like your old self you might have been offended.

You sniffle. The air is cold and the snow around the world is thick and makes everything sound muted. “Hey,” you reply quietly and he’s at your side before you can say anything else.

He’s a different person when its just the two of you; around other people (except Rose) he acts like he’s high and mighty, like his high horse is the highest of horses and he is the king of all the jackasses of the world. But when he’s isolated from everyone else, away from judging eyes or questioning stares, he’s a doting friend, so sweet to the bones it makes you wonder why ants haven’t gotten to him yet.

“It’s cold as balls,” he states, quick to notice your uncovered hands. He takes his own gloves off before you can tell him not to, and he’s already stuffing your hands into them. “And it’s three in the god damned morning. What the hell are you doing here?”

You watch his hands around yours. “Leaving my mark,” you say, lifting your gaze to your name spray-painted across the wall.

“So you own it now?” he laughs, but you can tell that there is a hint of worry in the way he talks. He’s already pulling you away from the wall and you let him. You trust him.

“No, not really,” you reply. “I kinda just…” you shrug.

“You kinda just?” he asks, and as you continue to walk you realize he’s leading you to his car. “Kinda just wanted to spell your name out?”

“Basically, yeah,” you agree.

He drives you to his place, which you are kind of thankful for. You don’t want to go home just yet. You don’t want to remember the reality that is your life.

Dave’s apartment is several blocks away from the university, closer to where all the nightclubs are. It’s a pretty shady area, but people seem to know that messing with Dave Strider might be one of the biggest mistakes you could ever make. You’re not sure why, and you don’t want to find out either. You’re just glad that he’s on your side.

His room is cleaner than you’d think. Pictures line the walls in a haphazard but organized sort of way and there are boxes filled with vinyl records spread across the room. There are shelves lined with jars of… things.

Your favorite part is his bed. It’s never made up and it makes you feel like you belong for some reason. You don’t hesitate to drop yourself onto the mattress, face first into a pile of pillows that smell a lot like his shampoo and body soap.

You never expected Dave to be such an important person in your life. He makes you feel wanted and worthwhile, faults and all, and it makes your heart swell with a feeling you’ve long to miss.

“Take your shoes off, damn it,” he laughs, plopping onto the bed beside you as he stares up at the ceiling. The ceiling is dotted with glow in the dark stars and there is a sense of calm whenever the two of you just lay back and count them, even though Dave knows precisely how many there are (he stuck them on, after all).

You lazily kick of your shoes and take off a few layers, taking his blankets as your own. “What were you doing out?” you as him.

He’s in the process of changing his clothes and he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Oh,” he said, tilting his head back slightly in thought. “Rose is in the library finishing up her final paper. Brought her a coffee like the loving brother that I am,” he says proudly. “She looks horrible, and I could not pass up the chance for a selfie with my favorite sister.”

“You’re crazy,” you scoff before he joins you under the sheets.

You look up at the plastic stars with him and you try to pretend that they’re real. Easy enough, you’re pretty sleepy now and it’s not hard to imagine.

He’s warm beside you, breathing slowly and calmly as he counts. He always counts the stars, it’s a way to put himself to sleep.

You’re halfway to dream land when he asks quietly and almost hesitantly, like he’s not sure if you’re asleep, “are you okay?”

And you turn to him, drowsily and all and give him a small nod. “Of course,” you say, but you know that’s not true. He knows its not true.

“How okay is okay?” he asks. “Did you take your meds?” he adds.

“45% okay, and yeah, I did.” You reply, pulling yourself closer to him. You’re happy that he never seems to mind your hugs.

“Good,” he says, and there is relief in his voice. “Fantastic, I’m proud of you,” he replies, patting your cheek. He sounds like he’s messing around, but you know that his words ring true. Dave Strider seems like an emotional puzzle but really, it’s easy to understand how he feels.

“Thanks, Dave,” you say and pat his cheek as well. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eridave is one of my weaknesses. Romantic or platonic. It doesn't matter. I just want them to care about each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try out writing a person with psychological disorders, but I think I didn't really do that well. I'm sorry if it's shit. I also intended this to end with erisol but it ended up as pale dave/eri/rose


End file.
